Enough
by PlonkerOnDaLoose
Summary: It's Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth. Draco pays Ginny a visit on Christmas Eve. Fluffy D/G one-shot inspired by 'Love, Actually'


**Disclaimer: **I own neither Harry Potter nor _Love, Actually_, actually.

Most kindly beta'd by _**Aerleigh **_

* * *

**Enough**

_  
_It's Christmas, and at Christmas you tell the truth, right? Draco pays Ginny a Christmas visit. Inspired by _Love, Actually_

_  
I try to laugh about it  
Cover it all up with lies  
I try and laugh about it  
Hiding the tears in my eyes  
'Cause boys don't cry  
Boys don't cry_  
'Boys Don't Cry' – The Cure

.

His girl became Mrs. Harry Potter on November fifth. In truth, she wasn't actually his girl. She never was his girl, nor would she ever be. It was only an adjective, _his_, but it stuck, like a name. His girl. In a way, she would always be his girl.

Harry had no idea. How could he? How could he not, you ask? But there's no one blinder more blind than the man who just doesn't want to see. He noticed nothing but that his new friend and, his new wife, the two most important people in his life, were two separate entities. Very separate.

Not so separate now, though, not now she knows. She knows. Not that he admitted to it, to anything. No, he said nothing. Stayed off topic, said he had places to go, people to see and that she could show herself out when she was done. Lock the door, okay? Or the cat will get out.

So what does he do?

Ignore her, as he has always done?

No.

Offer the olive branch she so wants? Friends? The word has a strange ring to it. Like a raw egg. Slimy and cold and slippery – yet nourishing, strengthening – but it's not finished, not right – and with potential for disease.

Boxers drink raw eggs. And he was a fighter. Wasn't he?

He could always tell her the truth.

Tell her the truth.

It's Christmas, right? And at Christmas you tell the truth.

It doesn't take him very long to prepare.

First, he thinks he's gone insane, past it, off his rocker, finally, as he stands outside her door in the snow. Second, he thinks of his warm bed, at home, not here, standing outside her door in the snow. Third he thinks of her, standing out her door in the snow, with him.

He rings the doorbell, wireless prepped and cards ready. They're big and white with large black capital letters. How obvious can you get? It's right there, before you, in black and white. Would you like pictures too, perhaps?

Only sixty words span eleven cards, but it took him hours to write them.

Warm voices sound from inside.

"I'll get it!"

"Thanks, Gin. Who is it?"

"How should I know? I haven't answered it ye–– Oh." She looks confused. Surprised. A little nervous. "Hi." It's that reluctant, hesitant _hi_ when you're hiing someone you'd really rather not.

"Who is it?" Harry calls again.

She opens her mouth to announce answer him Harry but he cuts her off, his finger pressed against his lips. He points to the first card, holding it up in front of his chest. A shield, perhaps?

_**Say it's carol singers **_

He taps the wireless with his wand. Some old carol comes warbling out.

_Silent night, holy night  
All is calm, all is bright _

"It's carol singers," she shouts back.

"Well, give them a Sickle and tell them to bugger off."

She looks back at him, questioning silently. What are you doing here? Why do you want me? You don't like me, remember? Especially since––

He drops the first card into the snow. The next card reads,

**_With any luck, by next year_**

She's looking watching now, her brows furrowed.

**_I will be going out with one of these girls …_**

A collage of half-naked girls from the Muggle magazines he hides from his father follow. A smile, a nod, continue please.

**_But for now, let me say_**

Another cards hits the snow.

**_Without hope or agenda_**

The smile is gone now. Her mouth comes together in a round rosebud O. Without hope? He sees the words flicker in her eyes.

_**Just because it's Christmas**_

_**(And at Christmas you tell the truth)**_

It takes a lot of courage to drop the eighth card.

**_To me, you are perfect_**

He looks down at the card, reading the words _to me, you are perfect_. He can't look at her. But she looks at him. And then they look at each other _to me, you are perfect_ and down the hall Harry listens to Quidditch, playing with that stupid Snitch. He begrudges Harry for neither, the Snitch or his wife. This is just the way things are.

**_And my wasted heart will love you_**

_Sleep in heavenly peace  
Sleep in heavenly peace _

_**Until you look like this …**_

It's a picture of his great-grandaunt Black. Ginny laughs out loud, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she does a little turn in the doorway. Her leg bends and her hair swings down.

The last card.

_**Merry Christmas**_

"Merry Christmas," she whispers.

He gives her the thumbs up, picks up the cards and leaves. The wireless is still playing,

_Silent night, holy night  
Shepherds quake at sight_

"Draco!"

She's running out after him into the snow, in her bare feet, in her Gryffindor scarf. She catches his arm, pulling him around. His hands are full, the cards, the wireless. It's still playing,

_Glories stream from heaven afar  
Heavenly hosts sing alleluia_

Her hands cup his face and her lips meet his. It's quick but it's forever. She pulls once on his lapel, a sort of pat on the back, a good for you, old boy. And that smile.

She goes back into the house.

_Christ the saviour is born  
Christ the saviour is born _

"Enough," he says. "Enough now."

* * *

Anything you recognise is not mine. What do you think? It's my fist D/G fic. If the reception is good, I have an idea for a chaptered one that I will start – if not, I shall hang my head in shame and crawl back down the dark, dark hole I came from and never darken your lovely D/G door again. LOL.

Cheers, Plonksie


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